


Kill to Breathe

by Felilla



Series: Might Nein University AU [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mighty Nein as Family, Minor Character Death, Multi, Past Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Past Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role), Romance, Suicide, Suicide Notes, You can fit so much angst in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felilla/pseuds/Felilla
Summary: Mighty Nein College AUYears later, at a wedding on the other side of the country, after she made a speech with a grin and tears in her eyes, someone would lean over and ask her what drew her to them. Maybe it was that strange mischievous smile or the penchant for bluffing through lies. Maybe it was the instant camaraderie that buzzed between them, as if they’d known each other their whole lives. Maybe it was the way that Beau's smile came easy for the first time in so, so long.Or maybe it was something else entirely.Seven very different people never expected this. They never expected friends like this. They never expected a family like this.But, maybe it's exactly what they need.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Caduceus Clay & Fjord, Caduceus Clay & Fjord & Jester Lavorre & Beauregard Lionett & Nott | Veth & Caleb Widogast & Yasha, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Nott | Veth Brenatto & Caleb Widogast, Yeza Brenatto/Nott | Veth Brenatto
Series: Might Nein University AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980310
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	1. Mollymauk

**_Mollymauk is online…_ **

**** _Sometimes it all feels so pointless, you know._

_Strange, how unambitious one can be._

_Where to go._

_What to do._

_Nowhere to go._

_Nothing to do._

_There’s nothing._

SENT AT 2:43AM

**_Mollymauk is offline…_ **


	2. Beauregard

It was crowded. A couple hundred or so freshmen students squished themselves into the stuffy old amphitheater. Conversations ranged from stilted and awkward to downright uncomfortable. People were obviously dressed their best with styles that seemed to embody just about every angle of fashion. It made it easier to gravitate. Dark clothes to dark clothes. Modest to modest. Jocks to jocks. It also made the dimly lit room a technicolor nightmare.

Beau’s stomach turned a little at the thought of engaging with any of the slowly cloistering groups. She wasn’t quite sure if she could ease herself in anywhere. She knew that something about her screamed “jock”—maybe it was the fact that she was obviously wearing a sports bra underneath her dark blue knit tank and brown flannel shirt—but she also knew that there was something about her that also screamed “scholarship kid”. She knew these things because it was the same shit that set her apart in high school.

So, she did the only logical thing.

She didn’t interact with _any_ of them.

She kept to herself as she struggled to find an empty seat towards the middle of the rows. Preferably a seat without anyone on either side.

Which was probably fucking unrealistic, but no one ever told Beau she was practical.

It took her a little longer than it should’ve to realize that she was very, very unlikely to find a spot that fit her parameters. And, she realized, some (too fucking curious) people were starting to notice her pacing up and down the stairs. She sent the most heated glares she could their ways, half-tempted to just pick a fight right there and get kicked out of the dumb orientation altogether.

Beau forced herself to take a steady breath.

She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing her scholarship.

Couldn’t risk having to go back home.

It was a long moment before she opened her eyes again. “Settle,” she whispered under her breath. “Just fucking settle, Beauregard.”

She glanced up and down the quickly filling seats and- There! Right next to some chick in a bright pink dress and her… Boyfriend?

Beau’s gaze narrowed. The guy’s hand was definitely on the girl’s thigh but the girl kept shifting. Moving away, only for the hand to find her leg again. The girl laughed a bit, clearly uncomfortable as she tugged on one of her dark black curls. She made to stand. The guy followed, a familiar leering smile on his stupid face. When the girl tried to move past him, seeing as her end of the aisle leading to a wall, the guy settled his hand on the seat in front of him. It seemed nonchalant but Beau saw it for what it was.

Blocking. Blocking her from leaving.

Any calm left in Beau flung itself out a window. She pushed through the crowd, straight up the stairs and down the aisle. “Hey, asshole,” she said, a step behind him.

The dude stiffened. Over his shoulder, Beau could see the girl’s bluish eyes go a little wide. Slowly, he began to turn, arrogant smile stuck on his face. “What’d you-“

Beau swung. She could feel the crunch of the nose under her fist, hear his undignified shriek. No one in the theater seemed to notice the sound or any of what had just transpired. The boy stumbled back, and the girl deftly whirled around him to stand just in front of Beau. Beau briefly wondered if she was a dancer or something.

Her speculation was quickly overtaken by the pleasure of seeing the asshole crash against the wall and falling onto his ass. He clutched his nose, thick liquid already pooling between his fingers. He groaned and coughed. Judging by the way he immediately tilted his head back, it wasn’t the first time he’d been sucker punched. Some people never learned.

“You bitch,” he said, sputtering down at the blood on his polo. “What the fuck? I’m going to have you fucking expelled for this.”

Beau’s heart clenched for a moment until the girl stepped back and grabbed Beau’s forearm. Beau glanced down, expecting her to look uncomfortable or maybe a little afraid. Instead, a wicked smile had flooded her features. Wicked and… Proud?

“You can’t prove it was her,” she said, a hard to place lilt to her tone.

The boy glared up at them. He reached out with his free hand to pull himself up. “I’m going to tell a professor you did this. What’s your name? Give me your name.”

“Fuck you,” Beau growled and the boy flinched back the barest amount.

The boy fumed, his face so red that Beau thought he might explode. He looked Beau up and down. “Fuck me? You wish you could fuck me you fucking, dy-“

“You should walk away,” a voice said next to them, barely laced with a British accent.

Beau startled, swinging her gaze over to the guy sitting in the row behind them. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his phone dangling in his hand. He looked somewhere between nonchalant and invested.

“I recorded the whole thing,” he said, swinging his phone in front of him.

The fuckboy with a broken nose grinned triumphantly. Beau glared at the guy with the phone and the girl’s grip tightened on her arm just a bit.

“You’re going down,” the fuckboy said.

“Oh,” the guy behind them stood and Beau blanched at his height. He looked way shorter sitting down. “I think you misunderstood, sir. I recorded you bothering this lovely young lady here and her asking you to stop. I wonder how sexual harassment looks on transcripts. And at orientation too.”

The British dude, now Beau’s fucking hero it seemed, tutted, looking down at his phone.

“I’m pretty sure this university has a zero tolerance for that kind of thing,” the girl piped up, that vindictive smile back on her lips. She leaned forward. “Oh, and my dad’s on the board, Ronald. You should probably listen for once.”

Beau glanced down at the girl and then over at the guy. Then she faced the fuckboy—Ronald? Really?—and grinned. “Make yourself scarce, Ronnie boy.”

The fuckboy paled. Blood trickled down his chin now. With a huff, he gathered up his bag and tried to move past the girls. Beau just raised an eyebrow at him, unmoving. “Fuck you,” Ronald grumbled as he struggled over the seats and down into the next aisle. “Fuck all of you.”

He scurried away, tail between his legs.

As soon as he was gone, the girl let out a shrill laugh. She let go of Beau and spun in a circle in the small space—definitely some kind of dancer. Beau realized with a start that her short hair was actually dark blue, not black. “That was fucking amazing, you guys,” she looked up a Beau with a bright grin. “You are my hero. And you-“

She turned to the boy behind them, who almost looked sheepish. Taking a quick look at him, he wasn’t as tall as Beau initially thought. His dark brown skin was spotted with light patches of vitiligo on his hands and on the left side of his face. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, nothing fancy, but Beau could tell that he was built like a fucking truck.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, I didn’t do anything,” he said. “I just overheard the conversation.”

Beau looked over at him. “Did you really record all of that?”

The guy blinked. “What? No. That’d be weird. I literally sat down right before you punched him.”

“You were bluffing?” the girl all but squealed as she leaned up and smacked the tall dude on the arm. He flinched away a bit from the impact and Beau noticed how defined the girl’s muscles actually were. Her frilly pink dress was deceptive, it seemed. “I totally believed you!”

“Same, dude,” Beau crossed her arms. “That was fucking intense.”

“It was nothing. You did all the work… I’m sorry. I don’t know your names.”

It seemed like such an afterthought, introducing herself to them.

“Oh!” the girl clapped her hands together and dipped into a theatrical curtsey. “Jester Lavorre, at your service.”

Beau blinked. The name seemed vaguely familiar somehow. She tried to remember if she saw a Lavorre on the list of the Board of Directors for the school, but nothing came to mind.

She shifted her attention as the dude tipped his head towards them. “Name’s Fjord,” he said. He offered no last name which seemed a little odd to Beau. “And you, punchy?”

They both turned towards her, expectant. Beau glanced around the room. It seemed people were already settling into their groups, their body language less stiff and laughs more awkward. She wondered, briefly, why these two were also alone. On the surface, they seemed normal enough.

Years later, at a wedding on the other side of the country, after she made a speech with a grin and tears in her eyes, someone would lean over and ask her what drew her to them. To a girl in pink with a bubbly attitude and a boy that looked like he’d been plucked out of an American Eagle magazine. Maybe it was that strange mischievous smile or the penchant for bluffing through lies. Maybe it was the instant camaraderie that buzzed between them, as if they’d known each other their whole lives. Maybe it was the way that Beau’s smile came easy for the first time in so, so long.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

But the introduction came easily.

“Beau,” she said. “You can call me Beau.”

* * *

“Jess?” Beau knocked on Jester’s door, her eyes darting down the hallway. It was empty, which she expected considering the fact it was past ten.

It was convenient that one of her only friends on campus—okay, one of her only friends _period_ —had a room in the same building as Beau. It was especially convenient when Beau returned from MMA practice late and stumbled upon her obnoxious roommate fucking some dude. Apparently, Traci thought that because Beau was gone most of the day, that meant she was also gone most of the night. Like, gods, Beau was horny and inconsiderate, but she wasn’t _that_ horny and inconsiderate.

Beau sighed. She just wanted a fucking shower and a quiet place to study. Not that Jester was necessarily quiet, but she usually just worked on her own stuff when Beau came over to study. The two of them had built a sort of routine over the past couple of weeks. One that sometimes involved Fjord or the library. It was- It was nice to have friends again.

Her gaze shifted back to the door, where Jester’s name was written in swirling script, a bunch of flowers and hearts drawn in meticulous detail around them. There was no other name and Beau wondered for the tenth time since she’d been here if Jester “my dad is on the board” Lavorre even had roommate. The bed across from Jester’s was always made and the space around it was empty, devoid of any personality. Beau had been tempted to snoop in the drawers once or twice but that felt… Wrong.

“Jester?” she tried again, knocking a little harder. Maybe she should go pass out in front of the door of her dorm. She felt a little bad for bothering Jester like this.

When no one answered after her last tiny knocks, Beau rolled her shoulders and turned away. She could take a walk. Hope that Traci’s little distraction was gone by then.

The door clicked. Beau’s heart jumped as she turned around, sliding a smirk onto her lips. “Bout ti…me…” Beau’s words died on her lips when she found a very much not-Jester looking at her with heterochromatic eyes.

Beau’s mouth felt dry. The woman was gorgeous. Maybe ridiculously so. She was an inch or so taller than Beau, incredibly pale with a single black line tattooed on her chin. Her shoulders were broad and her black tank top hugged her well-toned body. She wore dark makeup, down to her black lipstick. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, black with the ends drip-dyed white. And, Beau realized with deep seeded embarrassment, _wet_. Her hair was wet. She was probably in the fucking shower.

“Sorry,” the woman said, her voice startlingly soft considering her absolutely metal appearance. “Jester’s not here right now.”

“Uh,” Beau blinked, gripping the strap of her gym bag tighter. “Uh, Beau.”

The woman stared at her. Beau stared back, feeling heat creep up her neck. What the fuck, Beau? She coughed and stuck out her hand. “My name is Beau,” she opted for instead. “I’m Jester’s friend.”

Obviously. Beau had never been more inclined to bang her head against a wall.

The woman shifted her black-fingernailed grip from the door to step around it, revealing her black pre-torn jeans. She looked suspiciously like she was going out. “My name is Yasha,” she accepted Beau’s hand, her grip tight enough to sting. “I’m Jester’s roommate.”

“Your name…” _Is beautiful. What does it mean? Do you want to go out with me and then fuck me senseless all before Jester gets back?_ Beau bit down on her lip, rolling her tongue ring in her mouth. She needed to play this cool, so this gorgeous, stunning, absolutely beautiful woman named Yasha didn’t think she was a complete dumbass. “It isn’t on the whiteboard.”

Yasha’s eyebrows raised a little bit as she glanced over at the aforementioned whiteboard. She blinked. “I didn’t know that was there,” she said. “Perhaps I should add my name.”

“Yeah, probably,” Beau let out a nervous laugh and wanted to punch herself in the face. God, she sounded like such an ass. “I mean- You just- It’ll be easier for your friends to find you. If you, you know, write your name. On the whiteboard.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Yasha replied, deadpan. A different kind of nervousness rose up in Beau as she turned to look at her. “That was a joke.”

“Oh,” Beau chuckled again, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, yeah I’m sure someone like you has a ton of friends.”

Yasha looked back at Beau, her lips twitching as if halfway to a smile. “Someone like me?”

Was she… Teasing Beau? Beau smirked and shrugged, gesturing to Yasha. “You know, someone cool and aloof? Looks like they’re either going to punch you or rail you?”

Gods, did she really just say that? But Yasha just huffed out something like a laugh. “I see, someone like me.”

“Yeah,” Beau muttered, shifting her weight awkwardly. A moment passed where nothing else was said before Beau came to the disgusting realization that she probably _reeked_ right now. She looked back at Yasha. “Look, this is probably really- scratch that, definitely really awkward, but Jess kinda said I can use your shower when I need to. And I would’ve taken a shower in the locker room, but I thought it’d be safe. You know, since it’s like… Almost ten at night. But nope, Traci’s still fucking her heart out.”

Beau realized, as soon as she was done talking, that her words probably made little to no sense. Judging by the way Yasha blinked at her, she suspected she might’ve made absolutely no sense.

After a brief pause, Yasha barely tilted her head. “Who’s Traci?”

Beau let out a soft exhale, watching as a loose piece of her dark brown hair fluttered in front of her face. “My roommate. She, uh, I don’t think she understands how roommates work,” she looked up at Yasha. “Do you, like, mind if I use your guys’ shower or is that really fucking weird?”

Yasha looked up at the ceiling briefly before she gave a little shrug. She stepped back and Beau feared for a brief moment that she might close the door, but Yasha just held it open. Beau stepped into the room carefully. The action felt a little off after bursting into Jester’s room repeatedly over the past two weeks.

“Uh,” Beau’s eyes flickered up to Yasha and away again as she set her gym bag and backpack next to Jester’s bed. “Thanks.”

Yasha shrugged again. “Bout to head out anyway,” she said and Beau noticed that she was wearing a killer pair of combat boots.

“Right,” Beau mumbled. “Thanks anyway.”

“Goodnight, Beau,” Yasha said, that faint almost-smile gracing her lips again.

“Uh, night,” Beau responded, looking away again.

The door clicked closed and when Beau looked up again, Yasha was gone.

Beau took a deep breath to steady herself. Maybe she was hornier than she thought she was. Well, nothing a shower couldn’t solve.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Yasha was Jester’s _roommate_ , which mean that Beau was probably going to have to make a fool of herself again and again.

With a groan, Beau buried her face into her hands. She glanced back, over at Yasha’s side of the room. It still looked as bare as before. Except, Beau stood up and crossed the room. She pulled back the curtain on the window in the middle of the room. Just a bit. And spotted the potted plant. She had always assumed it was Jester’s but it _was_ on Yasha’s side. And Beau didn’t know jack shit about plants but it looked like it was flourishing.

Beau smiled a little to herself, tucked away the stupid little fact about Yasha for later, and went to take a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's kinda off to a slow start; I gotta introduce everyone before we can really get the story going.
> 
> Anywho... Here's everyone's majors for those that are curious:  
> Beauregard :: Major; Criminology - Minor; Psychology  
> Fjord :: Undecided  
> Caleb :: Major; Chemistry - Minor; Mathematics  
> Jester :: Major; Art  
> Yasha :: Major; Horticulture - Minor; Religious Studies  
> Veth :: Major; Physics - Minor; Chemistry  
> Caduceus :: Major; Mortuary Science


End file.
